Monday, March 28, 2005

A Dream... and a Lot of Questions

I dreamed that I was entering a small group of houses. Small houses. They were arranged in a sort of circle, and there were people walking in between. About 6 or so of them seemed to be walking the same direction, away from me, and I could have sworn one of them was Grandma. I was thrilled to see her. I shouted out to her, and tried to run to her, but the closer I got, I could see it wasn't really her. A voice said in my ear, "She's gone, Deidre. You've really got to let her go." I stood and cried while a wave of sadness washed over me. I could see that the stooped old woman was not Grandma... but she looked so like her. I thought I would sink into the ground with despair. I stood and sobbed for a few minutes... they seemed like a very long few minutes.

A small child was standing in the space between the buildings. I don't remember if it was a boy or a girl... it wasn't obviously any one sex. It seemed to be female. It had black hair and olive skin. "You were her favorite kid," I told the child through my tears. "Most babies cry a lot, you know? But not you. She always talked about how you were such a good baby, always smiling and happy." I paused uncertainly. "Like me."

The child appeared to be about 6 years old, but I felt instinctively that this was an adult I was talking to. It seemed imperative that I tell this child how Grandma felt about her.

Somehow I found myself sitting in the front seat of a car, an old sedan. Grandpa was driving. He looked like he always does in my dreams - happy, strong, proud of me. He drove me to a school. I had a box in my hands. I asked him if he would be back to pick me up. He shook his head. I asked if I would see him again... and he said no. Not with words... I just felt the words in my mind. I looked at him, hoping... He smiled at me and waited. I got out of the car. "Thanks, Grandpa," I thought. I did not look back. I did not see him pull away.

In the school, a young African-American girl of about 14 was singing a simple teen-pop song, the sort you'd hear from Hilary Duff or possibly in a children's musical. She was making a video with two friends, a guy and a girl. It was a sweet love song.

I filmed the video. I ran the camera. That was why I was there.

Marge meowed. I began to wake up. "Grandpa, will Isee you again?" No... I felt. "Thank you Grandpa," I said. "Thanks for the ride. Thanks for coming to see me. Take care of Grandma. I miss you... and I love you."

I woke up.

When I told G about this dream, I cried. I can't believe I'll never see them again. It still hurts. Grandpa didn't speak to me... he wasn't there to talk to me. He just came to help me get where I needed to be.

I have had two Tarot card readers tell me that I am destined to seek further education, and that I will be a teacher of some sort. But in a school? Filming music videos? Student Projects?

I don't want to be a teacher!

Was Grandpa the voice in my ear, telling me that I've got to let Grandma go?

1 comment:

Perhaps your subconscious is trying to tell you that there is a pocket of grief and/or lack of resolution that you have attributed to your grandmother but which in fact is something else. That's why the woman looked like your grandma, but wasn't her on closer inspection.